For those of you not snatched from the light of the surface, but born in this dark place, I shall explain. On the surface, there are beasts called sheep, herded and kept similarly to rothe for their wool and their meat. Often their herders use trained hounds to guide, control and protect the herds. These hounds are known as "sheepdogs". There is an old tale about such dogs.

The Sheepdog A tale of the surface

In a village in the hills of Cormyr, lived a herder who grazed a flock of sheep, and his faithful sheepdog. The dog was trained from a pup, and knew its role to protect its charges.

One night though, a lone and mangy wolf leapt on a sheep while the herder and his hound stood watch. The sheepdog, knowing his duty, rushed at the wolf, hauling it down. Wrestling with the beast, the hound snapped and bit, but rolling and fighting as they were, they tangled with the sheep, and the sheepdog bit at it instead, tasting the sheep's fresh blood. The brawl rolled on though, and the herder closed, battering the wolf with his staff til it fought no more.

The herder then smiled at his faithful hound, but cursed that the wolf had lamed one of his sheep. The sheepdog however, lay down wondering. It was proud of its defeat of the wolf, but it it had other thoughts too. The sheep were supposed to be its charges, but then, they did taste so much sweeter than its foe, and were much less trouble to overcome...

The dog bided his time, but his blood was up and he could not wait longer. Picking the biggest sheep in the flock, he taunted it, dashing through its legs to trip it, laying in front as it tried to reach a fresh patch of grass, but never raising a bark, never attacking. Eventually, the sheep tired of this aggravation and swiftly butted the dog in front of the herder. Seeing its chance, the dog fell with a whine, but then turned and tore out the sheep's throat.

"Obviously this sheep was maddened" thought the herder, and kept a careful eye on the rest. But, as he did so, he began to notice his dog's stange behaviour, its tendency to snap rather than bark when it herded the flock, its willingness to trip and confuse the herd. Seeing it almost bite at a sheep as he turned from closing a gate, he knew that the hound had gone feral, and was closer to the wolf it had once held off from the herd.

With a heavy heart, the herder knew he had but two choices. He could cast the dog out into the hills, were it could prey on whatever it found, and then be forced to guard his flock from its former protector. Or he could borrow the woodsman's felling axe, and make sure that the hound went out cleanly.

Transcribed by the Balladeer.